


Guilty Things

by Baneberry



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Comedy, Consentacles, Crack, M/M, Other, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Squick, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Tentacles, Xenophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-08
Updated: 2014-05-08
Packaged: 2018-01-24 01:42:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1587008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Baneberry/pseuds/Baneberry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Senator Proteus has interesting interests, to say the very least.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Guilty Things

**Author's Note:**

> I was discussing consentacles in one chat, and Proteus in another. They eventually blurred together, and I wrote this little thing. It's really silly. Also, for one of my Proteus-loving buddies; I hope you get a kick out of it like I did while writing it.
> 
> [Tumblr link](http://captainbaneberry.tumblr.com/post/85182010498/guilty-things-2304-words-by-baneberry-ao3): because a reblog is always appreciated! （●>ω・）ﾉ

Senator Proteus believed the Cybertronian race was superior to all others.

The lowerclass, however, were a blight that needed eradication. In order to create a perfect, powerful society, lesser beings-- _worthless_ beings--must be removed from the equation. Some called it "classist," but Proteus preferred "perfectionist." It wasn't his fault if he liked his things neat and tidy; clean and presentable. It didn't matter if these germs were sentient or not; they had no place among higher society. Deserved to be digging around in the bowels of the planet where they rightfully belonged.

This extended to species outside Proteus's race.

He never thought much of the alien lifeforms he'd met. He often found them weak, useless; but they were also exploitable. They could provide Cybertron--Proteus--supplies and materials he needed in case of... emergencies. And back-up plans, should he need them. Ways to better advance their society. So it was necessary to make friends and align themselves with those who could provide new technologies and help them; and, of course, provide what they could (what the Senate allowed) in return.

Proteus was a great liar, but an even better charmer. Cold and sociopathic with a spark that might as well be a lump of space debris, he had the exterior of a warm, friendly, open-minded mech who loved and cherished each and every one of the people who followed and praised him. He smiled so prettily; he said such lovely but deceitful things. And people fell for it--for years, they gobbled up that shit-eating grin and all the lies without knowing any better.

And Proteus would make sure it stayed this way. That society remained oblivious to what really turned the gears and powered this planet's core.

As such, Proteus was perfect as Ambassador. Charm snakes. And though he hated all the worthless cretins with the remarkable toys, there was one particular alien race whose flaws and weaknesses he could overlook. Not "like," and _never_ "admire," but...

"Ambassador," Proteus crooned, rising to meet his guest, "it's been too long."

Ambassador Gonda was twice the size of Proteus; he was organic in nature, required wearing a breathing apparatus when he visited Cybertron. He wore a blue robe, concealing most of his slimy green skin. The alien's head was bulbous with two giant yellow eyes and double pupils. Gonda did not have traditional arms and legs--rather, they were tentacles. Big, fat tentacles, their pink undersides lined with suction cups hiding protracting claws. He slithered into the room on all six of his dragging tentacles, leaving behind a thin, slimy trail.

"Proteus- _yug_ ," Gonda hummed, his voice guttural. "Very long time seeing." He still had a hard time grasping Neo-Cybex; his vocal cords could not imitate some of the vowels and nuances in a number of words and phrases. But so long as Proteus understood what he was saying, they did just fine. Gonda offered his tentacle arms; six wiggling, aeolid cerata-esque tendrils sprouted from the edges, serving as fingers.

Proteus politely held out his hands. Gonda's fingers ran along his palms to the tips of the metal digits. A proper Y'hanth greeting.

"Always an honor, having you on Cybertron," Proteus chuckled. He gestured to one of the nearest chairs. "Please, sit. I made _kulhu_."

Gonda's yellow eyes turned pink. "Oh! Kulhu! Remember as alway Proteus- _yug_."

"Of course. I know it's your favorite. I've grown rather fond of the taste myself."

Gonda slid into his chair, Proteus quickly pouring him a glass of the steamy, thick sludge and placing it in one of his tentacles. He held it with his suction cups. After pouring himself a drink, Proteus sat down adjacent of his guest.

"We discuss many thing."

"Oh, business can wait," Proteus chuckled, swishing a hand. He forced down a gulp of the swill. "How have you been? Your offspring still getting into trouble?"

Gonda's form of a chuckle was a weird vibrating aue-aue-aue. "Let me tell! Very fun!" he aue-aue-aued.

Gonda went into another long, somewhat incoherent story in broken Neo-Cybex about his life, his family, his work. Right on track. After an hour of exchanging pleasantries, they'd talk business. That'd take another hour. Sometimes less; sometimes they argued. All and all, Gonda was an agreeable space-octopus, and was quite happy to comply with all of Proteus's suggestions and demands.

Then, three hours later, they'd get to their favorite part of these diplomatic chit-chats.

Like most of Proteus's life, the Cybertronian would keep this secret. After all, who knows what his colleagues would think about his coupling with the alien Ambassador. A conflict of interest, yes, but... _Really_? With _that thing_?

Proteus was sure if Decimus found out, the mustache-modded Senator would stop inviting him over for their weekly golf sessions. Now he sort of wished Decimus _did_ find out. Proteus never did like the old cog; the only things going for him was his cowardice, money, excellent taste in paint schemes, and the impressive, somewhat intimidating head finial.

Proteus had very interesting interests, to say the least. And, hey, Gonda wasn't complaining. In fact, Proteus gathered the ugly organic was just as excited about this part as he was.

There was something about the way the Y'hanth's tentacles felt wrapped around him. Maybe that was why Proteus could do this and not want to vomit at lowering himself to a lesser species.

Proteus invented, stretching back on the berth. He groaned, body shuddering; one large tentacle kept his hands pinned above his head, wrapped tightly around his wrists. The others ran their usual curious scan along his frame, dipping into seams, all the various nooks and crannies that made up this fine specimen. The tentacles left behind trails of slime that felt too warm on Proteus's armor to complain or gag.

At first he had found it repulsive, but like his species, he quickly adjusted.

Proteus arched up into the tentacles now moving between his legs, wetly stroking his thighs. Gonda hummed in response, eyes half-lidded, soaking in the Cybertronian's excited, lustful energy. Proteus shamelessly opened pelvic armor, cord pressurizing to a stand, exposing his port. Gonda snickered, again, one finger wiping away thin lines of lubricant from the edges of the Senator's port.

"Desire, verily much."

Proteus swallowed, looked down at the Ambassador. "H-How undignif-- _nngghh_!" He gasped, rising off the berth, as those six wiggly fingers dipped into his port, feeling the slick lining inside. One extended, brushing a top node, and Proteus whimpered; he ground down into those much too small, thin digits with greedy, impatient need.

Gonda chortled. "Not ver' different." He removed his fingers, his partner giving a disapproving whimper. He propped himself up, just a little, presenting himself; Proteus was begging, he knew, but he wasn't too embarrassed. He could easily deny any rumors of a sexual relationship with the Y'hanth Ambassador; because, really, who in their right mind would interface with _that_? 

And as far as the public knew, Proteus was an upstanding leader who would not dare to jeopardize his priorities.

That was just irresponsible--and dangerous.

Gonda slipped a tentacle beneath Proteus, lifting him off the berth by his wrists. He wrapped the tentacle around the Cybertronian's waist, squeezed, and Proteus mewled as the suction cups instantly clamped down on his dermal plating and armor. He watched as the Ambassador opened his robe, revealing his double-headed cock. Oh, God, and as hideous as it looked, Proteus knew it had a _great personality_.

Proteus chewed his bottom lip, swallowing down an excited purr. With a little careful consideration, but mostly ravishing need, Gonda lowered the Senator into his lap before slamming his cock into his port. Proteus screeched; his port clenched around the dick sheathed inside him, loosening little by little. He could feel it extended, reaching deeper and deeper, pushing against fuel tank. It was painful, but wonderful all the same.

Slowly, the impaling cock retracted, without ever completely pulling out. Gonda rocked his hips, moving in slow, steady pumps. The double-heads of his dick massaged against those ceiling nodes, and Proteus was practically panting, mouth hung open in a low moan.

A tentacle reached up, brushed his lips, and the Senator obligingly opened his mouth a little wider. He grunted as the tentacle thrust inside, past intakes, deep into his throat. Proteus closed his optics, worked his tongue along the suction cups. The tentacle around his waist and wrists squeezed; an approval. He bobbed his head, sucking the tentacle bobbing in his mouth.

A fourth tentacle wiggled between their coupled bodies, slithering around Proteus's cord. Suction cups latched on, and did what they did best; Proteus's squeal choked around the tentacle rammed down his throat, bucking up into the tentacle's hold. Gonda thrust in harder, hips smacking against hips in a wet, interesting combination of noises.

The Ambassador's tentacles tightened. Proteus knew the Y'hanth was about to climax. He winced as Gonda thrust inside one more time--

Proteus groaned as the alien fluid poured inside of him. Quite a bit, actually, pressing up and around his tanks. Gonda snarled when it was over; he slowly sat back, cock retracting. Proteus grunted as the tentacles released him, mouth-tentacle ripping free, dropping him back on the berth; his body spasmed as the alien cum spilled free in a large gush, forming a puddle between them.

Proteus's cycled air with large invents and exvents, his body still shaking. The flow of the liquid finally stopped. He powered his optics back online, a dim blue, and grinned crookedly, tiredly at the ceiling.

"Fine?"

Proteus swallowed, his throat aching. He slowly gathered to his hands and knees, fluid streaking down his thighs and legs. He smirked, wordlessly turning to face the Ambassador. Gonda smiled at the wicked, mischievous glimmer in the Cybertronian's optics. It only took him a minute--the lucky bastard--to go hard again, his cock bloated and erect.

Proteus leaned in, taking the cock with one, shaky hand. He wrapped his fingers loosely around it, stroking it lightly. The Ambassador shuddered. Proteus's grin widened, optics thick with lust; he leaned in, giving the cock one curious, but appreciative and heavy lash of his tongue, from base, over the two heads, along the top slit.

Gonda groaned. Another weird sound--a chittering, clicking noise, almost.

Proteus slowly took the cock in his mouth, working it down deep into his throat with ease. Gonda's tentacles lunged, wrapped around the Cybertronian in an embrace. Proteus's chuckle vibrated around the cock; sucking with such precision, drawing back to the very tip before plunging back down. His lips felt wonderful, and Gonda nearly started sobbing.

A fourth tentacle slid down Proteus's torso, once again wrapping around his still erect-cord. He gave it a tug, and that moan shooting through his cock had him reeling. Fifth and final sixth tentacles cupped Proteus's aft, their edges working down until the very tips pried the mech's port open a little wider. Proteus whimpered; oh, he knew where this was going.

The tentacles were flexible, and so it only took a little squirming and adjusting before the two thrust inside Proteus at the same time. Proteus jerked his head back with a cry; he ground into those two tentacles thrashing inside him, his port straining just a little to accommodate their collected girth. Gonda unwrapped one tentacle just to shove Proteus's head back down, taking his cock to the base with a small grunt.

The tentacles inside Proteus's port burrowed deeper; the grip and tugging around his cord harder. Proteus's mouth shuddered around the cock, the charge in his body growing and growing. He could barely remain on his hands and knees, the speed of his suckling slowing down.

Gonda knew. In response, he protracted the hooks in his suction cups, thrusting them ever so carefully into the lining of Proteus's port. Proteus whined, lowly, overload washing through him; the charge jolted through his frame, transfluid streaking the berth beneath him. A tentacle wrapped around his throat, helping him move; Proteus ignored his fatigue, helping Gonda on his way.

Proteus reached out, braced his hands along what would be the alien's hips. The lingering bits of energy from his overload rushed through his fingertips, lightly electrocuting Gonda. The Ambassador gave a guttural cry, head lolling back; Proteus winced as the cum poured down his throat, attempting to keep up and swallow as much as he could. Finally, he withdrew, coughing up some of the fluid; his faced screwed up as the rest of the orgasm finished off on his face, painting it in the blue liquid.

Gonda slouched back, tentacles pulling free and flopping against the berth. Proteus whimpered as he sat upright, backstrut aching. Cum dribbled from his lips, down his chin; he wiped some of it from his optics and cheeks. Swallowed the rest down.

Gonda's yellow eyes settled to a dim blue. "Verily nice. Verily good."

Proteus ran a thumb over his nose, swiping away cum. "Verily," he chuckled, licking it off.

\-----

EXTRA:

"See you soon real again."

Proteus chortled, leading Gonda outside. "I can't wait, Gonda- _yug_." He gestured to the Ambassador's bodyguards. With a wave of his tentacles, the alien slithered off, security flanking his sides.

Proteus smiled as he watched him go--specifically, those tentacles. "So," he sighed a moment later, leaning against the doorway, "how much did you hear?"

"Most of it," Sentinel replied from his silent vigil beside the door.

Proteus grinned up at the massive securitybot. " _Everything_?"

Sentinel's frown twitched.

"Given some of the sounds, it was possible I was being attacked, or even tortured. Yet you did nothing." The Senator arched an optic ridge. "What kept you from barraging into my room to see if I was okay?"

Sentinel did not answer. He didn't need to. Proteus knew, and leered proudly.


End file.
